Sleepers
by Stetnee
Summary: ABANDONED! All five pilots lead normal teenage lives on L2... until one prank goes wrong...
1. One

Warning: Language and other graphic content. NCS later, though really described.  
  
I dont own Gundam Wing and so, I dont own the character. I also do not really own the story. It belongs to Lorenzo Carcaterra who is the author of the origional novel Sleepers. It is a controversial best-seller. If you do end up reading it, as I strongly suggest, you will have to decide whether its true or not. If you have already read it, know that this is different. Some scenes are of my own creation and some are similar to those in the book, but the overal story is the same.  
  
Authors note: Um... please read and reply. I love feedback. ^_^ Also remember that unless other warnings are noted, these apply to all chapters.  
  
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This is the story of my four best friends and the lives we lived. It's about the neighborhood where we grew up and how we were sent to a place that forever changed our lives. About how we managed to ease some of the pain of the memories that place made.  
  
It's more a story about friendship, though, and how true friendship can stand up to anything. The four people who were my best friends were the truest friends anyone could ever find. They would do anything for me, proving it as often as needed, and I would do the same for them. They were my makeshift family. We were inseparable friends as kids and loyal souls as adults. Two of my friends, murderers and the most caring people I knew, made it only to their late twenties. The third who shared in their life's glory, lived not a month past his thirty-second birthday. The fourth, still alive, lives alone in a small apartment on L1.   
  
I am the only one that seems capable of telling our story; someone must because it has to be told. So let's start at the beginning, when the only thing that really mattered was each other.  
  
~June AC 192~  
  
Every summer meant what all of us waited for during the school year - total freedom. Summertime in Seneca Heights, the neighborhood where we grew up on L2, meant carnivals, swimming and doing whatever the hell we wanted. Our fun usually consisted of going to Sam's, the only department store in town, and simply messing around. We filled up shopping carts for no other reason than to leave them in random locations; we rode the bicycles up and down the aisles, claiming we were taking them for test drives; we moved "Wet Floor" signs to carpeted areas; we lounged in the patio furniture for as long as we wanted. We had most of our fun, though, in the bathrooms. But you probably don't want to know the kind of things we did in there.  
  
Today, however, our fun came not from inside Sam's, but from the field. The people of Seneca Heights had pooled their money a few years before and paid to make a playing field out of a large, unused area of the colony. On the 20th of June, every summer, baseball games took over the entire field. Children and adults of all ages gathered on the field to watch different gangs and cliques duke it out with a ball, a bat and a few - if any - mitts.   
  
My team - me, my four best friends and four other kids from the neighborhood - was playing against a group of older boys from the other side of town. The oldest and captain, a Spanish kid named Karlo with thick arms and bushy hair, was nearly a foot taller than me and twice as ugly.   
  
"C'mon," I shouted angrily from the sidelines. Marcus, a mixed boy with black hair, dark eyes and fast legs, had just been called out; I had seen the ball and I had seen when Marcus got to the base. He was safe.  
  
"What kind of shit is that?" Wufei called to the umpire. My Chinese friend, who had been sitting beside me moments ago, stood up and began calling the umpire names that he probably shouldn't have. His jeering, however, was drowned in the sea of shouts from the others. Heero, the captain of our team and the oldest of my friends, was already out on the field.  
  
He wasn't arguing, though. He had gone out to bring back Alex, one of Marcus's friends, which had run out at the umpire in a rush of frustration. We hadn't had a good game so far despite the fact that it was a tie.  
  
Once the ordeal was settled, everyone returned to their seats and it was Trowa's turn to bat.   
  
Walking up the plate, it was easily seen that Trowa was the tallest amongst us. He picked up the old wooden bat and readied himself for the pitch.  
  
He swung and missed. He swung again and missed again. The third time he swung, Trowa finally hit the ball, sending it shooting far into the left field. Being the tallest and leanest of my four best friends, Trowa took off around the bases. My whole team was on their feet, shouting and cheering my friend on as he flew past second base and on to third then in on home.  
  
Trowa skidded to a stop on top of home base, a grand smile across his face; the ball had only reached the third baseman by the time he'd stopped.  
  
The home run finally ended the two-hour game and brought my team victory.  
  
My team ran up to Trowa, yelling in excitement and joy while at the same time, heckling at the opposing team. I looked over at them and jeered with the rest. The look of defeat and embarrassment on their faces was just too good. I laughed and flicked off Karlo - a mistake that I soon regretted.  
  
Having been less than fifteen feet away, Karlo was on top of me in less than a second, punching and hitting at whatever was in the way. My arms flew up to my face in defense and Heero was instantly on Karlo's back. I heard shouts from the other boys, some encouraging, some not. I felt blood on my hands and knew that he'd probably busted my nose. Heero struggled with Karlo, eventually prying him off of me and landing a few quite effective blows of his own.  
  
Quatre, my blond-haired Arabian friend, ran to my side and helped me up. "You ok, Duo?"  
  
"Yeah," I managed to say as blood trickled down my chin.  
  
Heero turned from the fallen Karlo and looked at me, a slight bruise forming on his face. "Ok?" I nodded in response and he walked passed me, leading our group away. "Then let's get out of here."  
  
Two hours later found our group sitting around a table at Calli's Pizza Kitchen, eating the free one we'd earned from winning the game. Calliona Meretta, an Italian woman with a heavy accent and heavier body, always set a free pizza as a prize for us. She liked our group because we were one of the few flocks of kids that didn't bother to steal from or vandalize her small pizza parlor.  
  
I had a tissue shoved up my nose, preventing the blood from flowing down my face and into my food. I took a bite just as Wufei had finished telling Calli the story of how I got my ass kicked. A few theatrics thrown in for good measure and she was all over me in a short second, offering me another slice of free pizza.  
  
It's good to look innocent. Especially when you're thirteen and have no money.  
  
They all laughed at the way Calli was coddling me. I laughed when I got an extra slice of sausage pizza and they sat there with bare plates.  
  
That was the way it usually was. Me and my friends laughing and joking as we got free food. Heero, Trowa, Quatre, Wufei and I ruled the area between 43rd Street and Dorsted Road. It was only about five blocks, but the space was big enough for us to do whatever we pleased. There were plenty other kids in the neighborhood; most were decent people, some weren't, but the five of us pretty much stuck to each other, rarely venturing out without at least one other member of our pack.  
  
We were close; they were the best friends I ever had. 


	2. Two

Authors Note: Ok, this chapter contains ethnicity jokes. They are meant in fun, so please know, I dont mean to offend anyone. ^_^ Please Read and Reply!!  
  
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Me and the guys had been friends for as long as I can remember.  
  
Wufei Chang was the son of two Chinese immigrants that had been forced to come to L2 eighteen years ago when their colony was arranged to be dismantled. He was my height although he was almost a year older than me. He was fourteen at the time of that baseball game and despite the fact that he always became absorbed in whatever game he played, he hated baseball. His parents were still married, albeit unhappily and his father the family and their small apartment by working at the butchery downtown. He was a drunkard who rarely spent time with his family. Wufei's mother was a small woman who pretended not to notice her husband's bad habits. She buried herself in her work as a seamstress and usually left Wufei's older sister, Myonghi (Myhi for short), to watch over their two younger siblings, Lhushi and Kimhi. Wufei helped Myhi take care of the two younger girls as often as needed, but spent the vast majority of his time focusing on us and his general topics of interest, including wrestling, motorcycles and comic books. He had a kind heart and always made it a point to stand up for those who couldn't defend themselves.  
  
Quatre Winner wasn't the youngest of the five of us, but he was the smallest. Only slightly younger than Wufei, Quatre's sandy blonde hair and light blue eyes often made people doubt that he actually was Arabian. His parents were married, though also unhappily. His father worked almost constantly at the company he owned on the other side of the colony. His mother, while she was a caring and gentle woman, often cheated on her husband, usually bringing home men that felt they knew just how to *deal* with a kid like Quatre. My blonde friend often emerged from his small house in the morning with bruises from said men. Although he was technically Muslim, he was like the most of the neighborhood - not very religious. He went to temple with his mother on occasion, but only when he couldn't get out of it. Quatre loved to read and liked to draw; he was the most talented kid in our school's poor art department. He liked wrestling like the rest of us and because his was the only home with cable, he often invited us over to watch Monday and Thursday night wrestling shows. Despite his love of the violent sport, Quatre was by far the most peaceful of our group, preferring to talk rather then throw punches.  
  
Trowa Barton, as the tallest of our group, was a Latin Catholic who never knew his father. His mother remarried when he was young and his stepfather never took the time to get to know him. He had brown hair that hung with heavy bangs over the front of his face, usually covering one of his green eyes. Being Latin, Trowa's mother was the best cook Seneca had ever seen. She was a kind, tall and plump woman who liked being around us kids more than she liked the company of any of the adults in the neighborhood. They lived in a small tenement on 42nd Street where Trowa had to learn to defend himself at an early age. Like Quatre, Trowa loved to read. His bedroom held multiple shelves of books, most bought from flea markets or stolen from the corner book shop. He was quiet and thoughtful and never raised his voice. He was determined not to turn out like his father had; broken and beaten in a jail cell on L3. It wasn't as if he didn't care for his father, the man *was* his father, but it was hard for Trowa to have very strong feelings toward someone he'd never met. Trowa hated fish with a passion and like Wufei, didn't care much for baseball. With his height, he was more of a basketball man.  
  
Heero Yuy was the leader of our group. He wasn't the tallest, or the strongest, but he was the oldest and as it seemed, the most street-wise kid I ever knew. At 15, he was no taller than I was at 13, with messy dark hair and intense blue eyes. He was Japanese and had moved to L2 when he was three years old with his father. His mother had left the two when Heero was only a baby and neither Heero nor his father had seen her again. His father was a hardworking man with a steady job at a salvage plant on McKingsly Road. He did his best to provide Heero with everything he needed, but the man hardly made minimum wage and had to get money from the local loan sharks to pay the rent sometimes. Heero rarely talked about his father, just like most of us barely spoke of our families, but I knew that Heero held a strong respect for his dad. A respect that few of us had towards our own fathers. Heero was strong-willed and determined. If there was a way to get something, Heero figured it out and made a plan to get it. He was always at the center of our scams and always made sure everything went alright and everyone got out alive. He liked comics, but loved manga more. The Japanese comic books he had gotten from his father were the basis of his collection that filled the small bedroom in his west 37th Street tenement.  
  
Then there was me. I was the youngest of our group, but not by far the weakest. I made it a point to be as tough as everyone else in the group; there was no fun in being the weak link. I'm not exactly sure what I am: I'm American, but most people just called me Duo. My family was full of strict Catholics who went to church every Sunday morning, every Wednesday night and often in between. I always wore a cross around my neck in remembrance of my Grandma Helen. She had taken care of me when my parents had fights, making sure that I was safe and comforted. She had lived with us before she died at seventy-two of lung cancer. I was always the loud mouth of our group, always the most outspoken. I had indigo eyes - a combination of my father's and mother's eyes - and long brown hair that was kept in a tight braid that hung far down my back. I loved to read and Quatre and I often had deep discussions concerning our favorite book - The Count of Monte Cristo. Heero got me into manga, though I still held a strong passion for the American classic comics. I hated pepperoni - would gladly eat sausage pizza everyday if I could - and country music. I was more into the punk rock that was played out of a window near the field.  
  
There were five of us and the whole neighborhood as our backyard.  
  
Quatre, Wufei and I sat on the front stoop of a tenement across the street from Charlie's Steakery. Trowa was leaning against the fire hydrant and Heero was sitting on the brick wall next to the steps, his feet dangling below him. Baseball, basketball and various collecting card were strewn across the ground in front of us.  
  
"I'll give you a 187 Duke Marion for your '89 Max Deering," Wufei said to Quatre, the collectable card in his hand.  
  
Quatre thought for a moment and then spoke. "Throw in a Mystic Card and you got a deal."  
  
"No way!' Wufei protested, "Not worth it."  
  
"Fine then," Quatre replied, "Anyone else?"  
  
"Not into it today," I said, "S'too hot."  
  
The temperature had topped 90 degrees that afternoon and even though it was artificial, the sunlight only added to the heat.   
  
"Let's go get an Ice," Trowa suggested.  
  
"Don't have any money," I said.  
  
"We could put it on our tab," Quatre smirked.  
  
"No," Heero replied, "Mr. Phillips is pissed as it is. He says we go in there one more time without intendin' to pay, we're in deep shit."  
  
"Then let's go swimming," Wufei said, "It's too hot to just sit here bakin' on the sidewalk."  
  
"The river?" I asked. The colony contractors had put in an artificial river in a small unused corner of the colony. It made it easier to harvest food on the colony and saved money on imports.  
  
"Nah, let's go to the pool. I don't feel like having fish swim up my ass today."   
  
"Then let's go," Heero said, standing up.  
  
"Hey, won't Relena be there?" I asked Heero as we walked, "She's always at the pool ain't she?"  
  
"Yeah," he answered, "So what? S'long as she stays away from me, she can do whatever the hell she wants."  
  
"Yeah," Wufei began, "She's got it bad for you, man. She's hot too. Nice piece of ass."  
  
"Annoying piece of ass," Quatre added.  
  
"She's Jewish," Trowa joked, "What do you expect?"   
  
Heero and Quatre laughed. "Yeah," I said, initiating one of my favorite games, "Why is Italy shaped like a boot? You think they could fit all that shit into a tennis shoe?"  
  
Everyone burst into laughter.   
  
"What did the American say when he found out that the USA was the leading country with obesity?" Trowa responded, "'Yeah! We're number one!'"  
  
More laughter erupted.  
  
I turned to Heero and Wufei. "What happens to an Asian man who runs into a wall and has a full erection? He breaks his nose."   
  
Yet more laughter.  
  
"Hey," Wufei started, "If a person who speaks three languages is called 'tri-lingual,' and a person who speaks two languages is called 'bi-lingual,' what do you call a person who only speaks one language? American!"  
  
More laughter came from our group as we turned the corner and continued down Jackson Avenue.  
  
"Why are there no Disneyland's in China? No one's tall enough to ride the good rides."  
  
We all laughed and made our way across a yard towards the pool. I smiled at my friends and made an impression in my mind to remember this moment. You never know when the good times will end. 


	3. Three

"Just gimme a damn pop, Quatre."  
  
My blonde friend chucked and surrendered the cold bottle to me. "Summer" was still in full swing and the five of us has gathered on the rooftop of Wufei's apartment building. It was around five o'clock and still as hot as it was at noon. It was a common ritual for us to just hang out on the roof of any given building - most often this one - drinking sodas out of a cooler and eating whatever we had managed to get for that afternoon. Today it was hot dogs.  
  
"So Heero," Quatre started, "Ganna tell us what happened last night or we gatta beat it out of you?"  
  
"What happened last night?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's none of you guys' business," Heero replied as he lie back on his beach towel, thin strong chest bare of his usual tank tops.  
  
"What happened last night?" I asked, "C'mon, you know you'll tell us sometime."  
  
"Fuck off."  
  
I turned to Quatre. "What happened?"  
  
"He had a date with Relena," Quatre replied casually.  
  
"So? You act like that's never happened before."  
  
"What happened last night had not happened before. At least according to rumor."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Rumor has it… Must *I* be the one to spill the beans, Yuy?"  
  
Heero remained silent and the rest of us turned our attention to Quatre.  
  
"Ok, but only because I'm your friend. Rumor has it he fingered her."  
  
Looking back on it now, I find it funny how at the age of fifteen we found this amazing. But despite the habit of most of the girls in the neighborhood to spread their legs for fingers, they hardly ever spread for what mattered. This left the vast majority of Seneca Heights boys virgins until their late teens.  
  
"Yeah, right," Wufei retorted, "Like that prude would ever drop her pants."  
  
"Heero you sly, sly dog," I snickered, "You been holdin' out on us now, buddy."  
  
"It's only rumor," Trowa pointed out.  
  
"True?" I asked Heero, giving him one more chance to confess.  
  
He remained silent.  
  
"I'll take that as a 'yes'."  
  
We laughed for a few minutes. Heero got up and leaned over the edge of the roof, looking at the street below in silence.  
  
"Damn it's hot," I complained.  
  
"You ever shut up?" Wufei asked.  
  
"You ever quit bein' a dick?"  
  
"Hey!" Heero took us from the topic at hand and focused on the main event of most evenings. "There she is!"  
  
The five of us knelt beside the brick barrier on the edge of the roof and peered down across the street. A thin, dark haired girl had just entered the building and would soon be making her appearance.  
  
Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, around five thirty to six o'clock, Hilde Schbeiker would walk home from cheerleading practice, go into her apartment, disappear for a few minutes before emerging in her room, curtains always open, to start the show. She was the daughter of two German immigrants who had come to L2 when they were in their mid-twenties. Her father worked at the butchery with Wufei's father and similarly was rarely seen. Hilde's mother, a thick boned, sturdy woman with a wonderful sense of humor, was a secretary at some business about twenty minutes from their home. Loving animals, comic books, sports and pretty much everything else, Hilde was one of our favorite girls in the neighborhood for not only was she cool like one of the guys, she had breasts; that made it all the much better to have her as a friend.  
  
I was never sure whether or not she ever knew we watched her undress from the rooftop across the street, but I do one thing - the custom was enjoyed by all.  
  
Hilde would come home sweating and dirty from practice and, of course, need to shower. Her bathroom was small, barely enough to change in, so she usually changed in the space of her bedroom. For some reason I was never quite sure of, she always left the curtains open, giving us full view of her body.  
  
She was German and so, by genetics, sturdily built with good sized breasts and a nice ass. Yet she wasn't fat, or even chunky. She was… bubbly. Curvy. Beautiful.  
  
We watched as she appeared in her bedroom window, automatically dropping her equipment bag near the door and throwing her shoes in random directions. Then came the good stuff.  
  
She shed herself of the sticky shirt, exposing her breasts firmly held in her lacy bra. She then discarded the skirt, swiveled around and tossed the clothes items into her hamper near the closet.  
  
She stood there for a moment as she always did, reveling in the cool air of the room. Her hands through her short hair as she took deep breaths, showing off her toned torso. Then, reaching behind her back, she undid the bra strap, letting the garment fall to the floor as she slid down and out of her panties.  
  
Hilde shaved, keeping herself always well groomed.  
  
I think Hilde was the first girl we'd ever seen completely naked. But after the first accidental peak at her, we made it a point to watch whenever we all had the time.   
  
Seneca Heights was a thick melting pot full of people from all races, ethnicities and religions. This did not alleviate the racism in the neighborhood. The Europeans generally separated themselves from the others, while the Asians formed their own sub-neighborhood to form around their familiar culture. The older kids in particular, the ones who were just starting to follow in their parents' footsteps, were the most hateful of all.  
  
Neo-Korea, as it was known, was a distinctly separated area in the neighborhood. The Koreans there not only separated themselves from non-Asians, but also from non-Koreans. Most people didn't venture into the area, at least those who didn't wish to meet a mysterious end.  
  
Seneca was a rich mixture of American, Chinese, French, German, Italian, Spanish, Puerto Rican, South American, Indian, Philippino, Arabian, Japanese, Korean, Russian and Irish immigrants. Each settled in the same general area as those from the same country for no other reason than to have some sort of familiarity so far from home.  
  
Most set up their own businesses and a vast majority found themselves new, better lives. The few who didn't start out so well, usually found themselves lower level jobs or left the colony within a few months.  
  
It was a neighborhood full of everything. It was controlled, at the time, by a man named King Treize. A tall man with redish brown hair and kind but fierce blue eyes, Treize Khushrenada was an older man that ruled the streets of Seneca Heights as the colony's kingpin. He controlled all if not most of the underground crime and trade business and made sure there was no resistance to his rule. He really didn't have to push too hard, though. As a native of Seneca Heights, he remained forever loyal to the people of the area and to the neighborhood itself. Crimes against his friends and allies, which numbered to be the majority of the *colony*, were not permitted. Very few people made it onto his shit list, and those who did weren't on it for long… for one reason or another.  
  
Nevertheless, crime was a real fact in our lives and there was little Treize could do, despite knowing us personally and taking a special liking to Heero.  
  
But it wasn't only others; we had a hand in raising a little hell of our own now and then. Those were some of my best - and sometimes more violent - memories. 


	4. Four

My friends and I were thieves and proud to be so. More often than not we got away with it, but we stole more for fun than anything else and never stole anything worth a whole lot. Our favorite things to swipe were comic books. Most of the time, we got away clean and clear with the goods stashed under our jackets or shirts. We made it a point to never hit the same place twice in one month and never more than three times within a period of four months if we could avoid it. The risk of being recognized or caught was too great at that point. New stores, though, were a cause for celebration and testing.  
  
"Distraction."  
  
"Not that plan again, Heero," Quatre said flatly, "Got caught last time we used it."  
  
"That's only 'cause Tall Boy and Short Boy here couldn't keep their cool," I pointed out. Trowa and Wufei scowled.  
  
"Well if you hadn't broke the plan, it woulda worked!" Wufei growled at me.  
  
"Whatever," I said, very little concern or caring in my voice.  
  
"Fighting won't get us anywhere," Heero told us, "Just follow the plan. It's a new store - we'll be in and out in less than five minutes. Don't worry."  
  
"Oh God," Quatre said dramatically, "He said don't worry - you know what that means!"  
  
"Worrying is needed," I answered.  
  
"Just get movin', Duo!"  
  
I glared at Wufei before following Heero into the store. The corner of Fifth Avenue and 42nd Street was recently remodeled into a small shop carrying a large assortment of items. Opened up by two new Spanish immigrants from L1, Rico's was a new shop that had what we wanted - comics. And only the best was there. First editions, though locked under glass, were accompanied by later, yet equally good editions on the nearby shelves.  
  
Heero and I entered the store, Quatre closely following. The plan was for the three of us to walk through the isles, browsing as if we were looking for something specific - but not so much as to draw attention enough for one of the store owners to come up to ask if we needed help. When Heero turned down a separate isle, Quatre and I would continue as if we didn't see him turn, and move on to the comics isle. When Heero was holding enough attention, Trowa and Wufei would come into the store, fighting over something to grab the total attention of the store clerks and give Quatre and me a chance to stuff what we wanted into our pockets and inside our jackets and shirts.  
  
It had worked for us before, it would work for us this time.  
  
Quatre and I picked up our pace as we passed the cashier, who eyed us suspiciously. Heero hung back, making sure to glower at the clerk in response to his face toward us.   
  
He turned down an isle and Quatre and I continued to check out the various items along the shelves. The comic isle was a focus of the store, but it also ornamented various household supplies on other shelves. This was clearly a corner store we would be hitting again.  
  
As Quatre and I turned to look at the store's great collection of Marvel comics, Trowa and Wufei walked in the door.  
  
Shoving each other with curses escaping their mouths, I noticed the cashier turn his attention to them, clearly displeased at their behavior.   
  
"Hey! No fighting in here!"  
  
The man walked around from behind the counter and grabbed Wufei's arm, intending to steer him out of the store.  
  
"Hey!" Wufei growled, "Get the fuck off me!"  
  
"No fighting in here! Outside - now!"  
  
"Hey, man," I heard Trowa say, "Let him go!"  
  
Quatre and I stuffed a few copies of X-Men AC and shoved them in our pants, pressing them flat against our backs and under our shirts.  
  
I heard scuffling and peered around the corner of the shelf to see Trowa struggling to get the store clerk off of Wufei. In a last attempt, Trowa shoved his fist into the cheek of the clerk. I heard the sound of his fist meeting the soft flesh of the clerk's face and flinched.  
  
I then watched as Trowa was hurled toward the front door by a fist to the gut. His back slammed into the door handle, slamming into his spine, causing him to gasp in pain.  
  
Heero heard the noise and came out of his hiding place in the next isle.  
  
As Heero made his way toward the clerk, Wufei was heaved in the same direction as Trowa, only he hit the door with enough force to fall outside.  
  
Heero bull rushed the clerk, shoving him to the ground. The man hit his chin hard on the linoleum floor, a cracking sound signifying something had been broken.  
  
The clerk grabbed Heero and hurled him off his back and through the front door. By this time, both Quatre and I had forgotten our assignments and charged the unsuspecting clerk.  
  
The six of us tumbled outside. Heero pushed Quatre and I off of the clerk and began pounding his fists into the man's back. Rolling over, the clerk shoved Heero into the side of the store. A loud grunt escaped my friend's mouth as he was slammed between the wall and his rival.   
  
The four remaining from our group stood still, watching as our friend fought, equally powered, with an adult. A crowd gathered around us, people glad to watch some of the excitement.  
  
Heero landed two strong blows to the clerk's stomach, causing the man to hunch over in pain. He followed with a knee kick to the crotch and a kick at the knee. Once the man had recovered, only taking a few seconds, he charged at Heero, placing two quick punches to his side and one soon after to the face. I saw blood trickling down Heero's face and saw how his lip had been busted open.  
  
The two sat back, staring at each other, breathing heavily, sweat trickling down both their faces.  
  
"You little fucker," breathed the clerk, "I'm ganna kill you."  
  
"Shut up you fuckin' spic!"  
  
I saw the man's face go from red with exhaustion, to purple with rage. He charged again at Heero, throwing his entire weight upon my friend. The clerk pinned Heero to the ground and began settling punches wherever his fists happened to land.  
  
Heero brought up his knee, hitting the clerk again in the crotch. The man doubled over in pain, rolling off of Heero who took the opportunity to land a swift, final blow to the man's face.  
  
I then watched in aw, Quatre, Trowa and Wufei beside me, as Heero walked up to us and motioned for us to leave. He wiped his bleeding lip on the sleeve of his shirt and said nothing as we walked away from the beaten clerk and murmuring crowd. I looked at him, asking with my eyes if he was ok. He looked back, no emotion showing through. He then smiled and let out a little laugh as both of us walked faster to catch up to the others. It was one of the best moments of our friendship. 


	5. Five

There were no friendships deeper or more loyal than that of me and the guys. I can't remember a time when I wasn't friends with them or when I was involved in a scam without at least one of them. Each of us had our qualities that contributed to the group and each of us had a unique bond with the others. Heero and I connected because we simply understood each other. Heero and Trowa had a silent communication. Heero and Wufei both had the drive to protect those that needed it. Heero and Quatre were both smart and enjoyed - what the rest of us called boring - education based conversations.  
  
I connected with Trowa through our religion. Quatre and I both loved to read and loved the same books. Wufei and I loved to debate and most often with each other.   
  
Trowa and Wufei both hated baseball and it was the main topic for most of their conversations. Trowa and Quatre simply had a connection, like Heero and I… they understood each other.  
  
Wufei and Quatre both had many of the same political views.  
  
The bond that we all had with each other, though, was the enjoyment of each other's company. We were happiest when we were together and even happier when we were together unsupervised. No supervision meant we could do whatever the hell caught our fancy. We loved causing trouble, but we loved watching wrestling more.  
  
It was a Thursday night and Quatre had invited us all over to watch the Thursday night wrestling show. It started at seven, so I left my apartment at six thirty and began my walk down 36th Street. I met up with Wufei a few blocks from my apartment. We were then joined by Quatre and Heero further down the road. Around six forty-five, we arrived at Quatre's small house on Maralyn Avenue.  
  
The living room looked as it always did when we went over to his house. The large couch sat no more than eight feet from the TV with a small coffee table in between them. A reclining chair sat next to the coffee table, slanted towards the television. A bowl of popcorn rested on the wooden side table next to the couch along with ten bottles of Fitze's Root Beer - two for each of us.  
  
"So what's planned for tonight?" Wufei asked as he plopped down on the couch and reached for a bottle of soda.  
  
"Um… I think they said that Adam Cobra is going to take on both Jerry Firestone and Mystic in a handicap match," Quatre replied, "At least that was what he said on Monday night."  
  
"What happened?" I asked.  
  
"Firestone and Mystic were talkin' shit about Eddie Marran and Cobra got pissed - he interrupted 'em and started talkin shit back," Quatre told us, "Then he challenged 'em to a handicap match for tonight, but they haven't answered yet."  
  
"Pussies," Heero retorted.  
  
"Mystic is *not* a pussy," Wufei stated firmly, "He beat Magnum last month, remember? And not even Cobra would *attempt* to fight Magnum."  
  
"Yeah, but you don't see Cobra cowerin' like a pansy when it comes to the GM."  
  
"No, you see him cowerin' like a pansy when it comes to Accori."  
  
"Now there's a real pussy," I said.  
  
"Yeah, like Volcano's a tough guy," Trowa said.  
  
"Volcano never lost a match," I pointed out.  
  
"Never won one by himself either."  
  
"Fuck off, Trowa."  
  
"Back atcha, love." He winked a blew a little kiss in my direction. I flipped him off.  
  
Quatre laughed and turned on the TV as he settled onto the floor in front of the couch. Popping open a bottle of soda, he took a deep drink of it before grabbing a handful of popcorn.  
  
The room was silent for a while save for the noise of the television. Commercials flashed across the screen: Pepsi, new action movie, Hot Pockets, McDonald's, Sam's. The commercials continued for a few minutes, the five of us singing along if the jingle was memorable, when finally the show started. The rock music started up as computer effects filled the TV screen with lights and firework-like formations. The stars we knew well were shown with their names below them and then the camera flashed to view thousands of people sitting in stands surrounding the ring.  
  
Jerry Lawson and Matt "The Prince" Gordon appeared on the screen, sitting behind a large desk at ringside with microphones attached to their ears. They announced the nights coming fights and the main event; Adam Cobra vs. Jerry Firestone and Mystic.   
  
The camera then focused on the center ring where Amanda McMahan, WWE general manager and great great great great granddaughter of Vince McMahan, the one time owner of the company and famous asshole, stood with a microphone in her hand. She wore a nice and tight short skirt with a matching blazer over a white, cleavage exposing tank top. The crowd continued to roar until she lifted the mic to her mouth.  
  
"Tonight," she began in her husky voice, "is a special night. Not only are the two *toughest* men in the WWE going up against each other, but they are going to fight in a handicap match with Mystic fighting in Firestone's corner." The crowd erupted with cheers and jeers at the names mentioned. "Now," she continued as the crowd shushed again, "there are a few things that still need to be known about Adam Cobra before we can have this match…"  
  
And the backstage soap opera that was wrestling entertainment began. Scenes from outside the building and behind the curtains flashed in between the matches while Jerry Lawson and The Prince dictated it all people who were listening.  
  
The night carried on and an hour and a half later found Trowa lying on the floor in front of the TV with Quatre at his side. Wufei was sprawled out on the only reclining chair in the room and Heero and I lay on the couch. We had finished the sodas and popcorn within the first half hour of the show and were now only waiting for the main event to unfold. We'd taken bets on the winner with Heero, Wufei and I betting on another loss for Firestone while Trowa and Quatre were convinced that while Cobra had power, Firestone had Mystic, a short, acrobatic wrestler that was known for his last minute tricks that often won him a victory.  
  
The show was just returning from a commercial when the door slammed and I clearly saw Quatre jump. A bulky man, no shorter than six foot five, with a clear face and messy hair walked into the living room. His business clothes were ruffled and he smelled of beer and smoke.  
  
"What the fuck are you doin' in here?" he asked in a thunderous voice. I now understood why Quatre had jumped.  
  
My blonde friend rose from his spot on the floor and stood to face the man. "It's Thursday," he said in the steadiest voice he could muster, "Mom said we could be here."  
  
The man looked as if he was processing Quatre's words before he walked with heavy feet between the couch and coffee table and proceeded into the kitchen, probably looking for Quatre's mother. He knocked over the bowl of popcorn kernels, spilling them across the carpet.  
  
There were some loud but muffled voices from the other room. I looked over at Quatre and saw him looking rather intently at his feet. His eyes, which had been wide and happy moments ago, were now slender, pensive and full of anxiety.  
  
The shouts grew louder and Quatre seemed to shrink with every strident word. Curse words poured out from the hallway and a shrill voice raised against him. Quatre's mother, though a little woman, could defend herself against the men she dated. Quatre, however, was another story. She neither cared to stop the men from beating her son nor said a word about it.  
  
"Let's get outta here," Quatre said, grabbing his shoes and leaving the house without bothering to turn off the TV.  
  
We never spoke about our home lives. They were separate worlds that we gladly kept away from our free outside lives on the streets. We all knew about Heero's loneliness. We all knew about my violent father. We all knew about Trowa's step-father and his temper. We all knew about Quatre's beatings and we all knew about Wufei's sibling situation. But we never spoke of it. It was a silent pact we had all made and rarely was it broken. We didn't bother speaking of things that couldn't be changed.  
  
We never did see that match between Cobra, Firestone and Mystic, but through the chain of friends and contacts, we discovered that it had been Firestone and Mystic that had come out victorious. Heero, Wufei and I had been obligated to hand over ten dollars each to Trowa and Quatre. 


	6. Six

Warning: This chapter contains violence of bloody bloody nature. It's not grossly described, but enough.  
  
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Domestic violence wasn't something new to us. By the time we were seven years old, the five of us had learned to stay out of our parents' way and stay out of the house during the day. We each dealt with it in different ways; each of us finding something to delve ourselves in and whisk our minds away.  
  
On the streets, we saw our share of more violent crimes, too. King Treize wasn't a fan of the drug trade that happened in most parts of the world and colonies and anyone caught trafficking in his territory was quickly dealt with. It was justice to us. How many people would that dealer be killing with his drugs? It seemed only natural that he should have to pay for whomever he hurt.  
  
That was the way it worked. You may be involved in illegal activity, but at least you were honest with each other. Lying had a high price.   
  
Over the years the five of us had done little jobs here and there for King Treize. It was fast money: fifty dollars to deliver a package; thirty dollars to deliver a message; forty-five dollars to deliver an envelope. As you can see, we did a lot of delivering. It got dangerous and scary at times, but it was fast money and King Treize had grown fond of us. The six of us would often sit around a table in his bar on Aramo Avenue and play poker for pieces of gum. Many of my more vivid memories were set in that bar. Some were happy, some not so much.  
  
I waited as King Treize poured me another cup of soda. I sat at the bar, looking around the room I had been in a million times. It was dimly lit, with dark booths and a bar across from the door. The music was always old classics that Treize liked; he held a special place in his heart for some *really* old guy named Elvis. The room smelled like beer and tobacco and the air always had a smoky way about it. Wufei and Trowa were sitting in a booth close to the bar, quietly playing a game of cards. Quatre was sitting in a chair pulled up next to the booth, watching and, I knew, silently cheering for Trowa. Heero sat at the bar next to me, reading a book King Treize had showed him about city life. According to the king, it was a badly written and completely wrong portrait of the city and people.  
  
Three men sat in a booth at the far side of the bar as they always did. Their names were Jake, Manny and Ryan. They were the king's guard. They were nice guys for the most part and generally had no problem with five kids hanging around.  
  
"You sure you're not up for a game?" King Treize asked, referring to the only game he played - poker.  
  
"Yeah," I replied, "Don't really feel like losin' today."  
  
"You might not lose," Treize replied, raising an eyebrow  
  
"Yeah we will - we always lose."  
  
"Maybe you should practice."  
  
"Maybe you shouldn't cheat so much."  
  
"I don't cheat."  
  
"Yes you do."  
  
"You can't prove that," he chuckled. He refilled Heero's drink then took a seat behind the bar, directly across from us. "So what have you kids been up to?"  
  
"Nothin'," I answered, now looking at the book Heero was absorbed in.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really."  
  
"Ok."  
  
The conversation drifted around like that for about a half hour before a man walked into the bar, the door making that ding sound as he entered. He was a tall man with dark hair and small, suspicious eyes. He had a short beard and his face was round and clean.  
  
"Benny." King Treize stood, walked around the bar and stood in front of the man, stoned faced. Everyone in the room, including Heero turned to watch the two men stare at each other.  
  
"Treize."  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"I have business with Ryan." The man with the beard looked at Ryan, who had risen from his seat in the booth.  
  
"You have no business with him if you have no business with me."  
  
"This doesn't concern you."  
  
"Then get the fuck out." King Treize turned around, walking towards the bar. He had told the man to leave and, as king, was expected to be obeyed. But he wasn't. The man did not leave.   
  
Instead he pulled out a gun, pointed it a Treize and the room broke into chaos. Everything happened very quickly. Wufei and Trowa ducked into the booth, Trowa pulling Quatre in with him. Heero and I flew from our seats and lowered to the floor, using the bar stools as a bit of cover. Jake and Manny stood up alongside Ryan, all three swiftly pulling out guns of their own. Loud bangs thundered throughout the room.   
  
I squeezed my eyes shut and put my hands over my ears as Heero had already done. We huddled there while the deafening noises swirled around us. Fear ran through my whole body and I switched into panic mode. I stayed still, but I was shaking in my spot, ready to piss my pants.  
  
Smoke filled room and I coughed. The gunfire didn't stop for a few moments, but the short seconds rolled on forever. I hadn't seen what happened to Treize. Was he shot? Did he duck behind the bar? I didn't know and the fear for my own life was intensified by the fear for my friends' lives.  
  
The room went silent again. The gunfire stopped and the smoky haze of the room drifted around everyone.  
  
A few seconds passed before I tentatively opened my eyes. The sight my eyes were dragged to I will never forget. The man with the beard, the man who had dared defy the king, lay dead in the middle of the bar's floor. His chest was full of bullet holes and his body drenched in blood. The smell of the room turned from tobacco to the rancid stench of death that cannot be described. The man's body was still, motionless in death. I couldn't pull my eyes away even though I desperately wanted to.  
  
Heero looked at me and shook my arm. I was pulled from the sight and looked at his, seeing my fear reflected in him. I tried to turn to see if the other guys were ok, but I couldn't see further than the back of the booth's seat.  
  
I then look up at the three men standing over the dead body. Jake, Manny and Ryan still had their guns out and raised, pointing at Benny and waiting as if he would spring back to life.  
  
"You need to get out of here," I heard a voice say.  
  
I strained my neck and saw, peaking around the corner of the bar, a gun in his hand, King Treize. "Go," he said.   
  
I wanted to do as he said, but I couldn't move. My shaking body was frozen on the spot. I saw Trowa, Wufei and Quatre climb out of the booth and come towards Heero and me. We were pulled to our feet and out of the bar. The same shock and terror weighed upon us. It was the first time we had ever seen someone murdered. 


End file.
